Eighth Grade History
by Nikki1
Summary: Our heroes are growing up with their abilities active from a young age in a society that is accepting of their differences...and 13 year old fly boy Nathan Petrelli has to go to school. a prologue. chapter three is up!
1. Adam Monroe and CAP

Hi there. I'm nikki. This is my first Heroes story. Basically, I wanted to explore what it would be like for our heroes to grow up with active abilities in a culture that accepted and was aware of their differences. I would call this an introductory chapter or prologue (I guess), because it kind of explains the setting of other stories I have planned. So I think its important, if a little, well, dull. However, please read and enjoy.

**8****th**** Grade History**

"Alright, everyone settle," announced a young educator as he maneuvered through desks in his busy classroom passing out study guides. "Remember this is our last session before the _big_ final, which means it's your last chance to ask for any clarifications." Now Mr. Thomas Moore may have been as popular as a newly graduated teacher can be, but even he wasn't spared the obligatory synonymous groan from his students at the mention of the _big _final.

"I know, I know. 'Eww, yuck…kill me now!' but hey, at least you get this hour to ask me any question you would like…regarding the final." Mr. Moore was quick to qualify his statement at the naughty gleams he saw in several 14-year-old eyes. " I happen to know for a fact that many other 8th grade history classes are spending this time writing essays."

Cue dry heaves and grimaces.

"Yeah. My thoughts exactly. You many all thank me as you see fit. I wear a medium and I desperately need a new car. Cash gifts are accepted as well," he said with a wink.

"So lets get started. Notes and books out. Turn to chapter… Yes, Margo?" He asked with a sigh at the red headed student in the front row who was frantically waving her hand.

"Ok. I just need to make 100 sure…the final is only on chapters 12 through 15, right?" asked Margo anxiously. "Those are the only chapters I've been studying and if you suddenly decided to add different chapters…I…I just don't know what I would do."

"Margo, just like I have told you every day for the past week: if I spontaneously decide to alter the test that I've had prepared for months you'll be the first to know."

Their dialogue, which was by now so familiar to all of Margo's classmates that in 7th grade she had been dubbed Margo the Maniacal, was interrupted by the opening of the door by a very winded young man.

"I'm really sorry, Mr. Moore," he said between pants. "I know you hate when we're late but coach kept us much longer than usual at gym, what with the game next Saturday, and…"

"Relax, Nathan," said Mr. Moore with a comforting smile. "Since this is a very rare occurrence and I'm sure its not likely to happened again, I'll let it slide."

The 13-year-old Nathan Petrelli smiled in relief and made his way to his customary seat in the third row, silently greeting his friends with the cool attitude expected of the Student Body President, captain of the baseball team, projected valedictorian and all around high achiever.

"So as I was saying, lets turn to chapter 12, titled 'Adam Monroe and CAP'. If you'll all glance at your study guide you'll see that I've briefly outlined the chapters we'll be covering…yes Nathan?"

"Sir, I don't think I have one of those study guides," said Nathan as he shuffled through his notebook.

"Right, I had just passed them out when you walked in. Phoebe, can you please pass this back to Nathan? Thanks."

"Hmmph. Like he even needs it," muttered Margo as the paper made its way to Nathan.

The class sighed en group, knowing what would come next.

"And what's that supposed to mean?" asked Nathan heatedly.

"It means exactly what you think it means, Nathan Petrelli," said Margo turning to face her opponent. "I've said it before and now I'm saying it again. You have an unfair advantage on this test."

"Kids, please," interjected Mr. Moore. "Lets not do this again, huh?"

"Hey, I'm fine," said Nathan, the volume of this voice betraying his obvious agitation. "Margo just needs to keep her big mouth shut."

"If I'm a big mouth, you're a cheater!"

"Cheater?!"

"Yes, cheater! This test is on the history of APs in America. Your whole family is advanced. You are advanced. For goodness sake, your father works with Adam Monroe! I call that unfair."

"Miss Lane, if you can't stop this nonsense I'm going to have to ask you to step outside and compose yourself," warned Mr. Moore, his irritation evident.

"Wait, Mr. Moore, I'd like to say something," said Nathan. "People have been telling me to just ignore Margo Lane since kindergarten but I've had just about enough crap from her."

"Language, please."

"Sorry. Margo…you're so stupid."

"Nathan…" warned Mr. Moore.

"Fine. Margo…you're so…ignorant. Do you really think that my family sits at the dinner table discussing the history of 'our people'? Do you picture us around the fireplace analyzing the impact that the introduction of advanced persons had on the turn of the century economy? Do you honestly believe that Adam Monroe, probably the richest, most powerful man in the world, spends time waxing nostalgic with me? Reminiscing about what it was like to unveil the existence of APs to an astonished world? Because I'll tell you right now, none of that ever happens. I've met Adam like twice and my parents, well my parents aren't exactly big on family time. I'm advanced, yeah. I'm not denying it. It's who I am. I can fly. And it's really cool. But that's just a small part of who I am. Other than the flying thing I'm a kid like any other kid and my family is probably a lot like yours. And I highly doubt that Mr. Moore is going to center the test around what its like to fly." Nathan was suddenly quiet as he fought the familiar desire to run out of the room, the same desire he had every time he was put on center stage because he was advanced. It was like his dad said, though. A man faces his fears and deals with them head on.

"You would be right, Mr. Petrelli. Your unique ability will not be a focal point of the exam," said the impressed teacher. "Margo, would you like a rebuttal?"

"No," pouted Margo, her face an unflattering shade of purple. "Shouldn't we be reviewing?"

"Precisely," answered Mr. Moore, glad for the change of subject. "Okay we're gonna have to rush this a bit if we want to cover everything, but let me begin by reminding you all of the three main subjects that will be covered tomorrow: the affects of APs on the US a) Economy b) Culture and c) Government ranging from the founding of CAP in 1920 to today. So…basic question: Who can tell me what CAP stands for? Yes, Joy."

"Community of Advanced Persons."

"Exactly. Founder and purpose? Anyone? Ah, Lucas, go ahead."

"Um, CAP was founded by Adam Monroe as like a support group kinda thing for APs."

"And APs are…"

"Advanced Persons. People with special abilities," added Lucas before Mr. Moore could ask for further clarification.

"Stephanie," boomed Mr. Moore, shocking the dozing teen to consciousness. "Thank you for joining us. Do we know why Adam Monroe, though he has lived through several centuries, chose 1920 to reveal the existence of such people?"

The girl's response was to blink wearily, mouth agape.

"Alright, can anyone help Stephanie? Margo?"

"In his biography, Mr. Monroe states that it was the perfect time for his unveiling because he felt that the world at large was in the frame of mind to accept not only the existence of APs, but their help as well."

"And what significant event had recently ended which justified Monroe's reasoning? Everyone together now…"

" The World War," chanted the class.

"Yes and though the war had ended there was a definite sense of unease and anxiety permeating the globe. Permeate, word of the day…look it up. Monroe claims that a nameless friend with precognitive abilities foresaw another, more destructive war in our immediate future unless drastic preventative steps were taken. Do we know how many people initially came forward and exposed that they were advanced? Nathan."

"For the first nearly 20 years membership in CAP was under 200 worldwide."

"Why so few?"

"People were afraid of exposure. Afraid that they would be ostracized, I guess. But when the general public saw that APs were doing good stuff…"

"If I could briefly interrupt you Nathan, what types of "good stuff" were APs doing during these formative years?"

"Well, I know it was a big deal when MaryAnne Laborteaux was able bring rain to the Midwest farm regions during what could have been the worst drought in US history. She was like a national hero."

"And," offered a girl in the front row, " Johan Handel, a police officer, put a stop to several social uprisings in post-war Germany and Russia by hanging out in public houses and universities where the rebels met and looking into the minds of the leaders to discover their true intentions. Then he would report what he had learned to his superiors and the leaders were usually locked up for good."

"Very good examples. Nathan, please continue from where you left off."

"Umm…okay so when the general public realized that the APs could be beneficial to them, they just accepted them. That convinced more people to come forward. I think today CAP has like more two million members worldwide."

"That's a good transition point," said Mr. Moore as he glanced at the clock. " I want to look at today's AP issues before we leave. How have relations between APs and the general public changed in recent years? Joshua?"

"I think people are kinda scared of APs right now, especially after that thing in Haiti, you know with the guy who was like using mind control on his villagers."

"Its true that we have been hearing an increasing amount of stories involving APs who use their abilities inappropriately or for personal gain with dangerous results. I'm going to say one word that has been in the news a lot in the past year: Registration."

Soft conversations broke out among the students, many sneaking side-glances at Nathan who gazed resolutely forward, his steady glare focused on the black board at the front of the room.

"Everyone quiet. This is obviously a sensitive subject. Does anyone have any object, tolerant thoughts or questions regarding the proposed registration of APs?"

"Personally, I think it's a good idea," said Margo.

Nathan rolled his eyes and muttered, "You would" under his breath.

"I have an idea," said Mr. Moore as he paced the front of the class. "You don't have to answer this, but remember that creating open lines of communication are incredibly important when discussing sensitive information like this." He paused, considering the ramifications of posing such a delicate question to a group of young teens. "Who agrees with Margo that registration is a good idea? Don't be shy, I'm just asking for your honest opinion." Margo's hand, of course, shot up immediately and a surprising number of students slowly followed suit.

"…Twelve, thirteen, and…Jaden are you raising your hand or scratching your head? Okay then than makes 14 in favor of registration. Can I assume everyone who did not raise their hand is against federal registration of APs?"

The remaining student nodded.

"Okay then, 14 to five. I…I have to tell you guys…I'm really surprised so many of you are for registration."

"Well, I don't see what the big deal is," said a voice from the back row. "Its not like we're talking about herding them all into concentration camps or something. They just have to carry a license. Drivers have to do it and some of these powers are way more dangerous than a car."

"But not all people with abilities are dangerous," said Joy, an outspoken and studious brunette who had harbored a crush on Nathan since fifth grade science camp. "And first off, 'powers' is so not P.C. The correct term is abilities. Secondly, I can't stand how people keep comparing the licensing of drivers to registration. Its so not the same."

"Oh, please. It is too."

"Not even! My uncle is a congressman and he says its really dangerous legislation. He said if it passes APs will not only be required to register what they can do, but if you're considered a risk the government has the right to do tests on you and limit your civil liberties, lots of really bad stuff."

"Good. Some of these people are really dangerous."

"Exactly! Some of them. Not all. Just like in the general public, there are good APs and bad APs. We can't judge them all based on the actions of a few people who have made poor decisions."

"That's not what this is all about," said Nathan loudly, suddenly and calmly. "Registration isn't about protecting the general public and it's definitely not about protecting APs, like I've heard a couple of stupid politicians claim. It's about the government protecting itself, that's what it comes down to."

"You don't know what you're talking about," scoffed one boy.

"Maybe I don't, but my dad does. He's a big time lawyer who works with all the major players in Washington and in the AP community. I was looking for a book in his study a few weeks ago and I found this folder that turned out to hold a bunch of government papers about registration. Apparently the government is paranoid that someday there will be an AP who has the ability and the desire to take over the world or something. I know it sounds crazy, but it's true. The whole registration thing is there way of keeping a hold on the AP community."

"Are you sure about this Nathan," asked Mr. Moore, a man who was deeply invested in the political process.

"Unfortunately yeah. The government is afraid. They don't care about the civil liberties of a single minority group. Especially one as small, yet powerful as the APs. I confronted my dad about what I read and he didn't even deny it. He was totally pissed that I was sneaking around his study and I got seriously grounded, but he actually talked to me about it. He said it's important for us kids to know what's going on because its gonna be our problem some day."

"What do you mean?" asked Joy, voicing the question on the minds of most of her peers. "I thought they were voting on this soon."

"They are, but my dad says this version of the bill is too severe; it'll never be passed. That's not going to stop them from trying though. It'll get rewritten and watered down probably over a long period of time. Dad said we, as in APs and people who care about things like liberty and freedom, need to be vigilant. That's why I'm going to be a lawyer like my dad."

"Who are 'they'? Who are the people behind this stuff? I mean, 'the government' is a pretty vague description."

"I know it is," said Nathan. " But that's one thing my dad wouldn't say."

"Sounds like a stupid conspiracy theory to me," said Franklin dismissively.

Nathan turned to face the boy and certainly would have had a few choice words for him if the bell hadn't rang at that very moment. The kids scrambled for their things, glad for the end of the day, while Mr. Moore reminded them of last minute exam instructions like "Bring a no. 2 pencil" and "Don't forget to eat a healthy breakfast". Franklin strode purposefully by Nathan, 'accidentally' bumping his shoulder and knocking the future lawyer off balance. Nathan glared at the boy's retreating back, reminding himself that I he got expelled for fighting on the next to last day of 8th grade his mom and dad would quite literally kill him.

"Nathan," called Mr. Moore from his desk as the boy neared the door. "Could we talk for a second?"

"Sure," said Nathan hesitantly as he moved to sit in a chair near his teacher. "Look, I'm sorry for leading the class kinda off topic and calling Margo stupid and being late…"

"I didn't call you over for an apology," interrupted Mr. Moore with a grin.

"Oh," said Nathan as he visibly relaxed and gave an embarrassed chuckle.

"I just wanted to tell you that I'm really proud of the way you handled yourself today. I know it must be difficult for you to be the only AP at a small school like this. And I think you're right; you shouldn't have to ignore remarks from people like Margo. Don't be afraid to stand up for yourself. You'll make a great lawyer someday kid. Just watch the language."

"Thanks Mr. Moore," smiled Nathan. "I really appreciate that."

"Now get out of here," dismissed Mr. Moore. "I'm sure you have some last minute cramming to do."

"Not me," said Nathan jokingly as he stood and readjusted his backpack. "I'm an AP, remember. I know all."

Mr. Moore laughed. "Right. I guess we'll see tomorrow."

"Bye, sir."

"Good bye, Nathan."


	2. Good news?

Chapter 2: Good News

Joy Marshall hovered nervously at the gated entrance to the school's baseball field where the boy's baseball practice had run late. After three years of admiring Nathan Petrelli from afar she had finally gathered the courage to invite him on a study date, without actually calling it that. She had always shied away from asking him in front of his ever-present posse of friends and teammates, recognizing that he was more likely to say yes without an audience. After doing a bit of research she learned that as captain he was expected to stay after practice and put away the equipment while his friends went home, providing the perfect opportunity for an ambush.

'Its not an ambush,' she mentally corrected herself. 'I'm asking a friend to study, no big deal. Why am I so nervous?' Just as she checked her watch once more, hoping practice would end before it got to be too late, she saw the players begin to slowly trickle out of the locker room and through the gates. She tried to make herself look inconspicuous, which was hard considering that she was wearing a plaid uniform and standing against a chain link fence, and most of the boys walked right past her. A boy from her science class stopped to say hi but she made it perfectly clear that she didn't want to talk. Imagine if Nathan had walked out and seen her with another boy! All her plans would have been for naught. After about ten more minutes of anxious waiting she saw Nathan begin to walk in her direction. The girl made a truly valiant attempt at conjuring an air of nonchalance but she couldn't seem to stop repeatedly smoothing the pleats of her skirt or dusting nonexistent fluff from her shirtfront.

"Hey Joy," said Nathan as he drew closer. She could smell his freshly washed hair and she had to bite her lip to stop from giggling, which she considered silly and juvenile. "What are you doing here after four?"

"French club had an end of the year party that went a little long," she lied. "Our driver is picking me up at 4:30."

"In front of the baseball field?" asked Nathan incredulously. "Doesn't the French club meet on the other side of the school?"

"Umm, yeah…" said Joy, her hands tightly grasping her backpack straps as she quickly though of an explanation. "I guess this is just more of a direct route from my house. How did practice go?"

"Great!" he said enthusiastically, effectively guided off the topic of Joy's presence on the field. "I think we have a really good chance of winning. You're going to the game, right?"

"Of course, I wouldn't miss it," she said as she fought a rising blush, her hopes for an affirmative answer rising with his every word.

"Terrific, we could use all the support we can get."

The two stood in silence for several moments, Joy trying to form the decisive words while Nathan wondered why she was acting so strangely. As the silence became rather awkward Nathan shifted his backpack and said, "I guess I should be going."

He was walking away when she said, "Nathan, wait!" He turned and watched as she ran toward him. Throwing all caution to the wind she crossed her fingers behind her back and said, "I was wondering if you might be interested in coming over to my house to study tonight."

Nathan, who was truly confused by the normally staid Joy's out of character behavior, responded by saying "Study?"

Joy, who knew it was too late to back out, said, "Yes, you know for our history final tomorrow."

Nathan raised an eyebrow and said suspiciously, "You, Joy Marshall, need help studying?" Joy's pride in her sterling academic reputation refused to let him think that she actually needed his help, so she said, "Well, not really. I just thought it would be beneficial to have someone to review with. Mom and dad are too busy and my nanny leaves at six, so…I just thought you might…you know…want to?"

The boy stared, watching as she grew steadily redder with every stammer. He began to consider the possibility that she just might be asking him on a study date. 'Date?' he thought. 'Oh man…' He was flattered, naturally. He had always thought that Joy was kinda cute. She was definitely smart. And funny. He was about to say yes when he remembered something that spelled doom for Joy's high hopes. 'Dad.'

"Joy, that sounds like a really good idea. We would definitely review well together," he said, not realizing how crushing a blow his next words would be for the young girl, "but its just…today is a really bad day and I don't think…oh, no…no, Joy don't cry," he said in a frightened voice as the girl's chin began to quiver and her eyes grew moist.

"I'm not going to cry!" she protested with a sort of strained warble. "Why should I cry," she continued in an unnaturally high voice, trying desperately to compose herself until she could run far, far away. "There's nothing to cry about. I just invited you to study at my house. And today's not a good day. No big deal." She attempted a laugh, though it sounded more like a choked sob, at which point she turned and ran praying that she would never see Nathan again.

Nathan watched in horror as she sprinted across the field. He had no idea what to do about the situation. His mother scorned women who became weepy messes at the drop of a hat, calling them weak and disgraceful; so he had absolutely no experience with the consoling of crying women. Should he go after her and apologize for whatever it was he had done? Or should he give her space until she calmed down? Was he now obligated to buy her flowers?

Still unsure exactly what was happening, Nathan dropped his bag and ran after the girl, shouting for her to stop. Joy was pretty far away by the time Nathan was moved to action and he wasn't sure if she had heard his call. She hadn't stopped so Nathan assumed that she was out of hearing range. Though Joy was surprisingly fast on land Nathan knew that he could far outstrip her by taking to the skies. So, pushing his feet against the short grass, Nathan projected himself into the air.

He flew higher and faster than the situation truly called for, but he figured that it couldn't hurt to wow the girl a bit. He soared directly over Joy, the soft rustling of the wind against his blazer drawing the girl's attention. She gasped and immediately stopped, her eyes round in amazement. The teen boy smirked at the obvious affect he had on her. Forcing himself downward he landed soundlessly about two feet from where Joy stood.

Joy, her eyes still huge, said, "That was really cool."

"Thanks," replied Nathan coolly, his smirk verging on cocky before he remembered why he had flown over to her in the first place. "Joy, I wanted to tell you that I really meant what I said…that is, I do seriously want to study with you." He was talking quickly so that he could have his say without interruption from the notoriously vociferous Joy. "When I said it was a bad day I only meant that my dad is coming home tonight after being gone for a month and he's going to expect me to be home when he gets there. I swear it's the truth."

Joy's hope somewhat restored, she simply said, "Oh. I understand." She smiled weakly and actually managed to look Nathan in the eye. "My dad travels a lot too. Maybe another time then."

"Actually, I was thinking…" said Nathan hesitantly. "We eat dinner pretty early and my dad locks himself up in his study after that, so maybe you could come over to my place then. We have plenty of room so no one will bother us. Plus, Cook makes the best chocolate torte you've ever tasted." He rubbed the back of his neck nervously. "What do you think?"

"Well," she said before silently counting to five. Her older sister had advised her never to answer a boy too quickly or he'll think you're desperately pathetic and lose interest. "Yeah, that sounds like it could work."

"Great," he said with a relieved grin. "Do you know where I live?"

"Of course," she said, the knowledge that she kind of had a date suddenly making her feel very discomfited. "Everyone knows where the Petrellis live."

"Right. So, see you around seven?"

"Okay. Well, bye," said Joy with a nervous laugh.

Nathan said his own awkward farewell and jogged over to get his backpack from where he had dropped it earlier. Ensuring that Joy was at a safe distance, Nathan shouted "Yes!" and pumped his fist in the air. He knew none of his friends had been on a date before and he was feeling like quite the man. Slinging his backpack over his shoulder, Nathan pushed off the ground once more. He technically wasn't supposed to fly in his uniform as the sky is a surprisingly moist place and many of his outfits had been ruined in-flight, to his mother's great annoyance. Yet, at the moment, even the threat of his mother's wrath wasn't enough to dampen his high spirits. He spiraled into the clouds until the dizziness became overwhelming and, laughing happily, he took to floating through the atmosphere.

He loved flying. It was an incredibly freeing experience for the boy, who had more burdens and expectations on his young shoulders than was fair. On the ground he was constantly aware of his position as a Petrelli and the heritage that was inherited along with the name, meaning he was expected to work hard and succeed in all he did. He had to be popular at school and respectful at home. Petrellis had to be top athletes and top of the class. No failure. No complaining. No exceptions. In the air, though, he was just Nathan. The clouds didn't expect anything of him. The birds didn't remind him of his many obligations. It was just the clear blue expanse and Nathan, the boy who could fly.

Honestly, he was always surprised by how much people were awed by flight. Every time someone asked him "How do you do it?" he felt at a loss for words. He'd been at it since he was six years old, only about five years after he had learned to walk. He just…flew. He had best explained it to his physician, Dr. Suresh, by saying: "I feel like I have this internal energy that's trying to escape and it forces everything inside me to kind of push out. The next thing I know I'm in the air. From there on it's like walking or talking or swimming. When I want to get up from a chair I don't consciously instruct my legs to extend or straighten. It's the same when I'm flying."

Nathan was jolted from his pleasant musings by the loud beeping of the alarm feature on his watch warning him that it was 4:30. Recalling that he had to be dressed and ready for dinner by five, Nathan did a few more loops and barrel rolls and then sped through the air with an immense burst of energy, directing himself towards home.

* * *

Angela Petrelli put down her hairbrush as she finally heard the front door of her home open and slam shut followed by a noisy clambering on the stairs, signaling that her son was home. "Nathan," she said loudly as she heard footsteps in the hallway outside her door.

"Yeah, ma?" inquired her son without opening the door.

"You know better than to shout from the hallway," she scolded as she continued dressing for dinner. Nathan reluctantly pushed the door open, knowing that he would receive the usual harsh reprimand for his drenched clothing. Angela surveyed his appearance and with a long-suffering sigh said, "I don't have time to deal with this Nathan. Your father will be home in fifteen minutes. I expect you in the drawing room, showered and dressed, in ten."

Nathan expected brusqueness from his no-nonsense mother, but the especially severe set to her shoulders along with the worry lines in her usually smooth brow told him that something wasn't right. Besides, she always had time to lay into him when he had behaved inappropriately. "You okay, ma?" he asked from the door, knowing better than to trod her fine carpets with wet shoes. The woman pursed her lips in such a fashion that Nathan could tell she was considering whether or not to confide in her son. However she must have decided to hold her tongue because she just said, "I'm fine" and told the teen to go and change.

Fifteen minutes later Nathan and his parents were seated at the dining table. When he arrived at precisely 4:55 Arthur Petrelli pecked his wife on the cheek, gave his son a hearty hand shake, listened to the brief summary of events that had taken place in his absence and then ushered his family into the dining room just as the clock struck five. Arthur Petrelli lived for punctuality, a sad fact that gives great insight into his character. Petrelli senior was a brilliant lawyer but demanding and rather unaffectionate as a husband and father. No doubt he loved his family in his own unique manner, but he was a hard man to live with. Nathan wasn't even exactly sure what his father's ability fully entailed. The few times that Nathan had broached the subject he was told: "It's my burden to bear. Don't concern yourself." Dinner was always a quiet affair, as Mr. Petrelli believed table talk was an indecorous display of poor upbringing. Tonight, however, Angela had an announcement that was destined to rock her husband's perfect Petrelli world.

After taking a few small bites Angela realized that she couldn't harbor her secret for another minute. So, she pressed her napkin to her mouth, took a breath and said, "There's something you both should know."

Nathan, who was mid-bite, lowered his fork and after observing his father's curious yet wary look he turned his attention to his mother, who appeared slightly nervous yet determined.

"I'm pregnant," she said calmly, her head held high and a defiant gleam in her eye as she met her husband's bewildered expression. Their son's first reaction was to laugh, thinking that his mother couldn't possibly be serious. When his laughter was met by a fearsome glance from his mother he quickly sobered.

The older Petrelli pinched the bridge between his eyes as if staving off a headache. "You're sure?" he asked in a low voice.

"Very," replied Angela, her expression unreadable. "According to the doctor I'm at least four months along." The room was quiet as Arthur sat back in his chair, looking at his wife through enraged eyes.

"This could not have come at a worse time," he said as he stood and began to pace the room.

"Well, Arthur, I'm very sorry about the timing," his wife answered sarcastically.

"How could you be so stupid?" He stopped right beside her chair, looking down at her with his hands at his waist, communicating very aggressive body language.

"I'm stupid?" she asked, her mask beginning to slip. "I didn't realize I was solely responsible for the procreation of our children. This was a joint effort, Arthur and I couldn't be happier."

"You're actually happy about this disaster? Angela…" he said threateningly as he took a step toward her. Angela stood and met his glare. "What Arthur?"

The man glanced at Nathan, who had focused his stare on his dinner plate in an effort to escape the angry scene, and said, "I'm going to the office. We'll discuss this later." He was out of the house in less than two minutes.

"Well," said Angela when it was just she and Nathan. "Do you have anything to say?"

Nathan's egocentric thirteen-year-old brain could only consider the adverse affects that the introduction of a baby would inevitably have on his life. Thusly, he made the following unfortunate reply: "I think its gross and embarrassing."

"Really," she replied shortly.

"Come on, ma, you're too old to have a baby! Do you know how much my friends will make fun of me? This is so unfair." He sat hunched over his plate, violently stabbing his food. Mrs. Petrelli inhaled deeply and without looking at her son dismissed him from the table. Nathan stomped away and marched loudly up the stairs never considering that his mother, the strong, resilient, unemotional woman who had given him life, might be crying into her napkin in the silent dining room.

An hour later Nathan was immersed in a mind-numbing video game when he was disrupted by a knock on the door. "Yeah?" he shouted from his position in front of his television.

"Nathan? It's Joy. We were going to study, remember?" Nathan cursed and jumped up. He had completely forgotten Joy in the excitement of the evening. "Yeah of course, just a second." He straightened his shirt and checked his hair in the mirror before sprinting to the door.

"Is everything okay?" asked Joy after they had exchanged greetings and he had invited her into his room.

"Unh…why do you ask that?" he inquired uncomfortably.

"I don't know," she answered, "It just seems really tense here."

"Yeah, well, my mom kind of dropped a bomb on us at dinner," he replied as he threw himself into a chair.

"What happened?" she asked, perching on the edge of his bed.

"She announced that she's pregnant," he answered, figuring that his friend would find out eventually anyway. "Can you believe that?"

"A baby?" Joy squealed. "Oh my gosh, I am so jealous. You must be so excited!"

"Are you kidding me?" asked Nathan, a little put off by her zeal. "If you want it you can have it."

"You're not glad?" asked a disbelieving Joy. "Who doesn't like babies?"

"Why would I want some little kid wandering around here messing everything up? I like my life the way it is, sans baby. Its going to be noisy and smelly and sticky. Plus it'll need all kinds of attention and time."

"Does your mom feel the same way?"

"She said she's happy about it, but she's a girl. All girls like babies."

"You didn't tell her that you didn't want the baby, did you?" asked Joy hopefully.

"I said exactly what I think, that the whole thing is gross and embarrassing," replied Nathan proudly.

"You didn't."

"I did."

"Nathan Petrelli," she stood clutching her book to her chest, "that's horrible!"

"What's so horrible about speaking my mind?" asked Nathan as he too stood to he feet.

"She's having a baby and you, her son, said to her face that it's gross and embarrassing. Ugh, you disgust me," she said as she moved towards the door. "I can't believe I actually liked you."

"What?" shouted Nathan, not understanding how his first date had deteriorated so quickly.

"I thought you were different, Nathan," she said as she crossed the threshold to his room. "I thought you were a nice boy, but I guess I was wrong. You're just a spoiled, selfish, rich brat like all the other boys at school and I feel so sorry for your mother and that baby. See you around." Nathan didn't try to follow her.

Much as he was loath to admit it, he was both hurt and convicted by her harsh words. He considered going and talking to his mom but apologizing did not come naturally to Nathan. Besides, he still didn't want the baby and he still thought it was gross, he just wished he hadn't told his mom. Nathan decided he would talk to her the next morning, opting instead to do some last minute studying at his desk. The boy, emotionally and physically exhausted, fell asleep with his head in his history book about twenty minutes into his study session. He probably would have stayed there all night if he hadn't been awoken at about midnight by loud voices from his parent's room a few doors down.

Nathan knew that he shouldn't eavesdrop on his parent's private conversation but he rationalized that they were undoubtedly discussing the baby, which in turn affected him. He crept down the hall and knelt in front of their door, straining to hear every word. Though his father's voice would have seemed steady and sober to a casual observer, Nathan's years of experience with a heavily drinking father allowed him to hear the nuances in the man's speech that betrayed the alcohol he had imbibed. And he was a mean drunk.

"Nathan will be fourteen in a few months. Four short years of high school and then he's off to college. That means only four more years till you're free to do all the things you put off doing when Nathan was born. You know how upset everyone was when you abandoned your post in our community and you know how badly everyone wants you back. This child would mean at least 18 more years before you could do any of that. By that time you'll be nearing sixty. I know you Angela. That's not the life you were meant for. It's not the life you want."

"You can't honestly believe that I haven't considered all of that Arthur. I can do simple arithmetic, thank you. You're acting as if I planned this pregnancy and even though I did not, it doesn't have to be the end of all our goals. I'm more experienced as a mother now; I know I can handle more responsibility among the APs and raise this child at the same time. Besides I guarantee you that I am pregnant. This baby is coming in less than five months so why do you insist on talking as if there's something you could do to change that?"

"There is something," he said so quietly that Nathan had to put his ear to the crack at the floor in order to hear. "Get rid of it."

Absolute silence followed.

"Are you suggesting…"

"You know what I'm suggesting," he interrupted harshly.

"No, I want to clarify," said Angela angrily. "You're talking about abortion."

In the moments that Arthur was silent Nathan felt a chill run down his spine. He knew what that word meant and he was horrified that his father could consider doing that to Nathan's brother or sister.

It was at this moment that Nathan's mind fully registered the magnitude of what was happening and the realization left him breathless. That wasn't just some kid. That was his brother.

He brought his attention back to his parents in time to hear his father utter a low "Yes." There was the sound of quick footsteps followed by a sharp cracking sound, which turned out to be Angela slapping her husband across the face.

"I hate you for that, Arthur," she said calmly. "I really do."

"I wouldn't expect any less from you, my dear." A heavy tread walking towards the door alerted Nathan to duck around the corner and he watched as his father stormed from the house for the second time that day.

Nathan felt an incredible sadness pressing upon him. His father, controlling and harsh as he may be, was his hero and the boy was disheartened by his behavior. This was the first in what would become a series of disillusioning scenes that would later force Nathan to see his father for the man he truly was.

He knew his mother would need him so he entered her room and asked if she was all right. Without asking how much he had heard Angela told her son to sit beside her at a cushioned bench under a large window. "If you fly high enough, Nathan, can you escape all these lights and see the stars?" she asked. It was a strange question and Nathan answered honestly, telling his mother that he had never tried.

"Try, Nathan," she said in an oddly urgent voice, "Promise me that you'll try."

He promised.

Her eyes regained their flint-like quality but she took his hand in a rare maternal gesture and said abruptly, "Your father will never love this baby, Nathan. Not like he loves you. He's already determined that this experience will be a spectacular mistake for which I will be completely at fault, and you know how stubborn your father can be. I'm prepared to accept that. The baby will always have me, of course, but he'll need you too Nathan. You'll need to fill that space in his heart reserved for his father."

"He?" asked Nathan after a few moments of considering his mother's words. Angela smiled and rested one hand on her only slightly swollen abdomen, the other holding Nathan's softly.

"Yes," she answered. "It's a boy."

* * *

Wow…that took me a long time to write. I'd love to hear your thoughts on my humble offering. Thanks for reading. 


	3. and baby makes four

Thanks to everyone who took the time to read my first attempt at Heroes fiction. I have more story ideas so if you enjoyed these chapters please be on the look out for new stuff!

Happy reading…

**Chapter 3: and baby makes four…**

Arthur returned home at about noon the next day. Naturally he was apologetic, blaming his overindulgence in scotch at the office for his suggestion that Angela terminate the pregnancy. He promised to continually support his wife and assured her that over time he would become accustomed to the idea of a second child.

What choice did Angela have but to forgive him? She was a woman of society, high class and well bred. From the moment she had entered adulthood her mother had warned her that a wife must overlook a husband's indiscretions for the sake of a happy home and respected social standing, whether those indiscretions were in the form of aggressive behavior, gambling, excessive drinking, overt affairs, no matter the case. It would be her wifely duty. And so Angela had. The first time Angela emptied her husband's suitcase and discovered the scent of a perfume that was not hers she simply called a maid and instructed her to take on the task from then on. He lost his first big case several years into their marriage and it was the first time she saw him in a drunken rage. She did what any good society wife would do; she sent two-year-old Nathan to the park with the nanny, dismissed the help early and waited for him to pass out. They had been married for 17 years and one would assume that she had lost track of all such occurrences. Not Angela. She remembered every embarrassing scene, every spike of fear or feeling of regret he had inspired. She kept a reckoning and she couldn't wait for the day when she could repay Arthur some of the pain he had so generously dealt her.

However, now was not the time for retribution so Angela just added the experience to her growing pile of ammunition, smiled convincingly and told Arthur that she understood. She even allowed her husband to kiss her and agreed when he decreed that they never speak of the unpleasantness again.

Nathan, of course, was relieved to find his parents reconciled when he returned from school. After dinner, rather than head out to his social club as was expected, Arthur decided the family should retired to the drawing room to talk over dessert. Nathan was shocked at the unusual suggestion and, though his parents were obviously tip toeing around the most important subject at hand, it was a genuinely pleasant evening. Nathan was grilled about his finals and his mother reminded him that the following Tuesday he had an appointment at Hillcrest Academy for a mandatory placement test before the fall semester. "Remember to take this seriously," admonished his father, "This test will set the path for your high school career and you must never forget that college and law school will likely follow the trend that you set in these next four years."

Nathan was well aware of these facts. He was even aware of this when his father gave him almost exactly the same speech when he started Jr. High School. While some children may have rolled their eyes and shrugged off their father's advice, Nathan was a much different breed of child. He not only sought his father's advice, but his desire was to emulate him in all that he did, which meant success in school. Nathan had natural intelligence to be sure, but he was also cunning and hardworking, all of which was evident in his school records and at his graduation ceremony several days later. Among his other commendations Nathan was celebrated as his class valedictorian with an impressive GPA of 4.2, a fact that imprinted a smug grin on his father's face as he mingled with the other parents whose children were obviously less gifted than his.

After graduation summer seemed to fly away from Nathan. If his school year was structured and scheduled to the smallest minutiae, his summers were more so. You see, the Petrellis were old money, the cornerstone of the Manhattan upper crust for generations. Their status had even survived the awkwardness of revealing their tendency toward advanced genetics. That sort of influence was not easily achieved. Privilege was earned, at least as far as the family was concerned, and not offered as a birth rite. For Nathan that meant his summers were free of the idleness and play that he heard his friends speak of fondly. Instead he spent the first several weeks of his break working at his father's office doing mostly errands and making the occasional copy. That experience finished, he spent a month at a leadership training camp in Washington D.C. where he was surrounded by other like-minded young men; the leaders of tomorrow. He enjoyed being in the capital and watching the political process in action. On their last day Nathan was surprised when their session leader, a young man who he greatly admired, told him that he obviously had a great mind for politics.

"You really think so?" Nathan, who was waiting for his chartered bus, could feel his chest swell with pride that this young man would offer him such high praise.

"Sure. You're smart and shrewd, you're a natural leader and you speak will in front o large groups. It's too bad, really."

"What's too bad?" Nathan's bus had pulled into the station and he moved to hand his bag to the porter.

"Well you're advanced, right?"

"Yeah," said Nathan in a confused voice. He didn't see any connection between the two topics.

"Come on, Petrelli," he laughed. "The people of this country will never vote for an advanced candidate. Not in our lifetime anyway." Nathan fought a swell of anger that rose at the man's words, especially as he kept repeating how impossible a political career would be for him and what a sad waste of talent any other career would be for Nathan. The boy sighed in relief as the bus driver called for his passengers to board the vehicle. He muttered good-bye to the man he would no longer remember very affectionately and climbed aboard to find a seat where he could be alone.

Nathan wasn't quite sure why he was so upset. It wasn't like he had ever seriously considered going into politics. His father had pretty much mapped his life out for him and he would happily oblige with that guidance. However, about an hour into the drive as he stared aimlessly out the window, it suddenly occurred to Nathan that no on had ever previously told him that he could not do something. From the time he was a young child he was coached into believing that the world was his for the taking if he only persevered. Nothing was ever too hard or out of reach for a Petrelli. He had been raised believing this axiom and he still did. A look that was too mature for his boyish face hardened his eyes and he silently vowed that he would one day prove that near sighted young man wrong.

Nathan had no choice but to put the matter behind him because his summer activities weren't over yet. His month at leadership training was followed by a month at an AP youth camp called Endless Horizons. His family had been involved with the founding of the camp in 1960 and had apparently donated a significant enough amount to warrant the naming of one section o the wooded camp "Petrelli Pines". Nathan found this exceedingly embarrassing, especially as he hadn't been completely honest when he told his classmates that his family's concerns did not lay in the AP world. In fact, if the Petrellis were major players among the east coast elite, they were akin to royalty among the AP. They were the first family of CAP. They had stood by Adam Monroe through controversy and financed him during those first tough years. Actually Nathan wouldn't learn until he was much older the extent to which his parents were involved in the running of this exclusive world. Concurrently, he had been raised to see himself as a normal though privileged boy who just happened to be able to fly. He was being truthful when he said that being AP wasn't a key part to his identity. The summer camp was really the only time that he mingled with APs who weren't his parents.

All of these facts combined made Nathan's first few years at Endless Horizons quite difficult. He was nine when he first started, too young for the older kids to notice from atop their lofty thrones of maturity, and most of the kids around his age had been raised on stories of the famous Petrelli ancestors who fought for AP rights along with Adam and the old guard. They felt too awed to be in his presence to actually play with him. Yet, as time progressed, he made his group of friends and their bond remained strong over the years. Even though he was a bit uncomfortable with the exuberance with which most of his fellow campers held to their AP identity he always managed to enjoy himself. He was able to fly as much as he wanted, which was good. Junk food like candy and French fries weren't normally accessible to him per his mother's strict dietary regime, so he valued the opportunity to indulge while it was available to him. Plus, though he would never admit it, Nathan really liked making crafts. All things considered it was a pleasant bucolic experience for the city boy. He would never mention it to his 'normal' friends, of course. 'They wouldn't understand,' he thought, watching a friend roast marshmallows over a fire he had started by shooting high intensity beams from his eyes.

However, for the first time since he had started at the camp years ago, he was actually very sorry to see the end of their time come so swiftly. Unfortunately that had less to do with the great time he had at camp and more to do with how nervous he was to return home. At the beginning of camp he had received a letter from his mother informing him that the doctor had been wrong about the original due date. He had moved it from early December to mid September, meaning that Nathan's return home would be shortly followed by the arrival of his baby brother. It also meant that he had less time to get acclimated to the idea. All summer he had tried to put the looming event out of mind. Trying not to think of it, he packed his bags and, still trying not to think of it, he bid his friends farewell for another year. As soon as he began the trek home, however, he could think of nothing else.

Nathan was nervous and he didn't like being nervous. He liked being in control, knowing what to expect and now that was certainly not the case. What if his worst fears were brought to fruition and the infant was a little monster with a rancid odor and an ear splitting wail? Would he actually be expected to change a diaper? The thought alone made him gag.

Nathan's frightened musings were disrupted when the pilot announced that they would be landing in ten minutes and while the man gave his parting pleasantries Nathan watched a boy across the aisle read a book with his sister. The boy could have been six or seven, the girl maybe three or four, young enough to still carry a blanket. That's when a new fear horrified Nathan. 'Is it possible that I'm too old to be a good brother?' He saw that the children had abandoned their book to play some silly game with their hands. 'All of my friends with younger brothers or sisters have three, four, five, maybe six years apart. I'll be almost 14 years older than the kid.' He hardly noticed the turbulent landing as he lost himself in his concerns. 'I don't know any baby games. I don't want to know any baby games. By the time he's six I'll nearly be twenty! How can a twenty year old relate to a six year old?' The worried boy groaned and rested his forehead against the cool glass of the window, trying in vain to calm his racing mind.

A few minutes later he was scanning the busy airport for any sign of his ride.

"Nathan!"

He turned at the sound of his name, surprised to see both of his parents there to receive him. He happily greeted the pair, kissing his mother on the cheek and accepting a heavy pat on the back from his father.

"You guys never pick me up from camp," he said as they went to retrieve his bags once his mother was done inspecting him. "Is everything okay? You didn't fire John, did you?

"Everything is fine and no, of course we didn't fire John. He's waiting with the car. Aren't parents allowed to miss their son after two months?"

"Yeah, I guess so," laughed Nathan as they stepped through the automatic doors into the New York sunlight.

"Mom!" Nathan shouted, causing both adults to stop suddenly. He gazed at his mother with wide eyes, as if he were seeing her for the first time.

"What is it?" Angela was alarmed by his cry and a bit scared by the way he looked at her. She shook his arm gently, "What Nathan?"

"It's just," he hesitated, and then exclaimed, "You're huge! Somehow I didn't notice inside but you're really really big."

Arthur smothered a laugh at his son's insensitive comments, recognizing that though his wife's pregnant stomach had indeed grown rapidly in the past few months it wasn't wise to tell her as bluntly as their son had. For her part Angela just smoothed the blouse covering her expanding waistline, pursed her lips and turned to enter the waiting vehicle.

"What?" asked Nathan as his father shook his head and pushed his son toward the car, "I wasn't trying to make fun of her. She really is huge."

Arthur just replied, "Kid, you've got a lot to learn" and prepared himself for an icy ride home with a hormonally unstable woman.

Returning home from a long trip is always an unsettling experience. To Nathan, who had spent months surrounded by crowds of noisy children, his home felt like a tomb; quiet, cool and empty. It was lonely; especially once his father left the day after Nathan's return.

Nathan only had one week before he was to begin his first semester of high school and he spent the first days of that week adjusting to the changes that had taken place in his absence. His mother was most eager to show Nathan the nursery.

"Isn't it exquisite?" she asked as she toured him around the space.

"It's very...blue," he responded, overwhelmed by the singular coloring from the ceiling to the floor.

"Honestly, Nathan," she clucked, "Blue…can't you see that the walls are cornflower, the ceiling is azure and the carpeting is midnight; three very distinct colors. Besides, Darlene says monochromatic is very chic."

"Darlene?" He paused from inspecting the starry mobile over the low crib. "Who's Darlene?"

"My nursery room designer. Victoria's sister recommended her to me. It's been ages since I had to decorate a baby's room. I wouldn't know where to begin." She carefully lowered herself into an antique rocker by the window, caressing her abdomen in small circles while watching her older son.

He ventured to open a chest of drawers and was astonished by the volume of clothing they held. "Did all this come from the baby shower?" he asked, picking up an impossibly small sock.

"Most of it," she confirmed. "The ladies truly outdid themselves. Probably because it's been so long since any of us have had little ones around. Everyone's excited." They remained in silence for several moments, the mother rocking slowly, the son leaning his back against the chest of drawers.

Angela decided to shatter the quiet. "I have to know that you're alright, Nathan," she said suddenly.

"What do you mean, Ma?" the boy moved to sit at a stool by her knee, honestly confused by her abrupt question.

"Are you still upset about the baby?"

"Ma…" Nathan whined, rubbing his eyes in a tired motion that was a subconscious mimic of his father.

"I realize we all made a silent agreement to never speak of that night again, but the baby will be here in a few weeks…"

"I know that, Ma," he interrupted, angry that his mother was forcing him to confront a side of himself that did not make him very proud.

"I am your mother," she snapped, straightening her back and stilling her chair. "You will not address me with that tone and you will not interrupt me when I am speaking." Seeing that he was properly subdued, she continued. "I'll ask again. Are you still upset?"

He considered her question carefully, unsure whether to tell her the truth or what he knew she wanted to hear. "I don't know," he said honestly. "I'm not mad, exactly, I just…I don't know. I'm sure I'll be fine. How's pop?"

She sighed and with a significant look said, "He'll be fine too." She gasped and sat forward, one hand on her stomach. Nathan jumped at her unexpected movement, ready to run for help.

"I'm alright," she assured him. "Your brother just kicked me."

"He did, huh?" Nathan grinned.

"Mmm hmm. Come here," she said, reaching for Nathan's hand.

"No, it's okay." He pulled his hand away, uncomfortable with the idea of feeling something move around inside his mother.

"Don't be such a child," she reproached. "Give me your hand." A reluctant Nathan allowed her to place his hand on the underside of her belly. The first few moments were uneventful but then he was amazed to feel something pushing against his palm.

"Whoa," he said softly. "That's him?"

"That's him," she smiled.

"Does he always do that?" he asked, moving his hand in a different position to test whether the fetus would do the trick again.

"He's certainly been doing it often, but only recently. He has a lot of energy, this one." She was content to silently watch these first interactions between her children; delighted that Nathan was interested in the unseen but precious movements of her youngest son.

"Have you thought about what we're going to call him?" Nathan asked as he sat back on his stool.

"I have," she said, reaching to a nearby table and picking up an old book of folk tales and children's poetry. "Do you remember this?"

"Yeah, you used to read that to me when I was little."

"Correct." She fingered through the book till she fount the memorable and well-worn page she was seeking. "Does this look familiar?"

Nathan laughed and took the book she was offering, running his eyes over the much-loved picture and text. " 'Peter, Peter the Pumpkin Eater.' Man, I loved this story."

"I know, I had to read it to you every night. For six years."

He cocked an eyebrow and asked, "You're not going to name him Peter the Pumpkin Eater, are you?"

"Just Peter, actually."

"Why are you naming him after a fictional pumpkin eater who couldn't catch a chick?"

"Don't say chick. It's crude." She took the book back and caressed the cover. "And it's not about the story."

"Then why?"

She paused and then said, "I haven't been a very good mother, Nathan. By nature I'm cold and stubborn, in no way nurturing or kind-hearted. I despise cooking and baking and I'd rather use a knitting needle as a torture device than to knit a sweater with one. Your father was probably right when he said that this isn't the life I was mean for." She reached over to smooth the frown marking her son's forehead. "But when you were a little boy and you would call for me in that darling voice and we'd settle down on your bed to read this tale…I felt like a mother. You'll never know how I treasure those memories. I want to be better. I don't want to make the same mistakes, Nathan. Every time I see him, my Peter, I'll remember this story and I'll think of you and what it means to be a mother. Can you understand that?"

Nathan was quiet, flashbacks of soft pillows, his mother's voice and the scent of lilacs occupying his mind. He looked his mother in the eye and said, "Peter. Peter Petrelli. I think I like it."

She leaned forward as much as her girth would allow and held his face between her hands. "So do I."

Peter's birth was the first major event in Nathan's heretofore mundane life, but the events of his birth projected a future of strife for the newborn and his father, promising that Peter would buck the traditions and sensibilities that the man held dear. To begin with he was arrived five days past his due date, flying in the face of his father's love for punctuality and making useless his carefully scheduled plan for Angela's labor. When Peter did finally decide to make his way into the world he chose to do so while Angela and Nathan were stuck in the middle of what had to be one of the worst traffic jams in the city's history. And so the youngest of the illustrious Petrelli clan was born in the back of his family's town car. He would become his mother's joy and there were even times that his father seemed glad to have him around. To Nathan his little brother was nothing short of a miracle, bringing life to their empty home. As he cradled the tiny bundle in his arms he would tell him, "Just you wait, buddy. This is only the beginning." And, like always, Nathan was right. Only history would tell the depth of their bond and the strength of the love that made them the brothers Petrelli.

Thanks again! Please do review…constructive criticism is greatly appreciated.


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